


Compromise

by laleia



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-16
Updated: 2010-04-16
Packaged: 2017-10-09 00:03:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/80826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laleia/pseuds/laleia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Every year for Christmas, Harry and Draco compromise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Compromise

Christmas was his least favorite holiday of the year, and the reason why could be summed up in one simple word.

_Family_.

Don’t get him wrong, Draco Malfoy loved and appreciated his parents. This was rare in a modern pureblood family (which spent large amounts of time sniping at each other and trying to get the upper hand).

The problem was his extended family, who had nothing better to do on Christmas Eve than show up at Malfoy Manor and collectively disapprove of his “lifestyle choices.”

It didn’t help that neither he nor his “lifestyle choice” were any good at reining in their tempers, to his mother's despair.

“Draco, darling,” Great-Aunt Orianna said between mouthfuls of potatoes, “how is your hobby coming along? I heard the Muggle economy’s not doing very well. That must be terrible for your … what is it that your little company does, again?”

“My company redesigns Muggle devices that can be adapted for the wizarding market and then patents them,” he explained for the fifteenth time that night, controlling his irritation with a great deal of effort. “And it’s doing very well for itself, Great-Aunt Orianna, thank you for inquiring. We’re experiencing three times as much growth this quarter as last quarter.” Due entirely to Christmas sales, but she didn't need to know that.

“I'm glad you’re doing some good, honest work with yourself, boy,” Second Cousin Cygnus sniffed. (This coming from a man who made a living illegally smuggling magical creatures in and out of the country.) “Unlike some people I could name, who spend their time arresting honest witches and wizards and sending them to Azkaban.”

Harry accepted this barbed accusation with plenty of aplomb as he smiled and said, “Oh, do tell me which Aurors have been catching honest witches and wizards. I would hate for us to get a bad reputation. I certainly know everyone _I _catch is a law-breaking, low-life, rat-bastard who _more _than deserves to rot in Azkaban.”

Draco breathed in the smell of the soup his mother had specially seasoned, savored the Chianti in his wineglass, and tried to hide his glee at the scandalized expression Cygnus's face. Now was it two months ago or three that Harry'd busted Cygnus for trafficking in centaur foals? 

“You know, Draco,” Third Cousin Twice-Removed Primrose said in her primmest voice, “there’s a delightful young pureblood witch from France that’s joined my Brewing Society. She has the daintiest hand with potions. I was thinking of setting up a tea for the two of you so that you could get better acquainted. I know you're having fun now, but you’ll need companionship in your old age.”

Draco fielded the busybody with a tight smile. “I’m all set on companionship for the time being, Cousin Primrose. I’ll let you know if that changes.”

He carefully did not roll his eyes as Harry tucked an arm possessively around him and pecked him on the cheek. “It won’t anytime soon, though,” he said sweetly.

Surprisingly, Harry _loved_ Christmas, even when it was spent sniping with Malfoys. This was partly because he was the Boy Who Lived and general Poster Boy for the wizarding world. He could say or do whatever outrageous thing he wanted—which he’d always done before, granted—but now he did it without setting tongues wagging.

"Draco, have you been out in the sun enough?" Great-Great-Aunt Sagitta peered at him through her spectacles. "You look positively fat. You should get some more exercise, or you'll end up with a Butterbeer-belly to rival your grandfather's."

While Draco couldn’t offend his relatives too much or risk his mother’s wrath, Harry could say whatever he wanted. Which he did. Often.

“Oh, I assure you Draco gets plenty of exercise with me every night,” Harry told Great-Great-Aunt Sagitta. Draco’s cheeks burned even as Great-Great-Aunt Sagitta nodded obliviously.

“Oh, Draco, look at the time,” Harry continued without even bothering to sound sad. “Looks like it’s time for us to go.”

Draco glowered briefly at his pocketwatch (even two hours enduring the family wasn’t nearly as dreadful as what he was about to endure – his other least favorite part of Christmas), but rose with Harry to leave.

He took his time making his apologies to the family for his hasty departure, ignoring Harry’s insistent tugs, until all the formalities had been met. Then they _Accio_’d their cloaks and broomsticks and headed out.

\--

You’d think, given the circumstances Harry had grown up in and the decidedly frosty relations between him and his blood, that he wouldn’t have a family tradition for Christmas.

You’d think wrong.

Even though he was no longer “stepping out” with their youngest daughter or participating in a brief polyamorous relationship with their youngest son and daughter-in-law (Draco was darkly certain in his bones that Harry had slept with more Weasleys than that at some point, but they had a Policy about not inquiring about exes), Harry was still considered a part of the Weasley family.

To Draco’s dismay.

After years of bickering come holiday season, he and Harry had finally worked out their Compromise. On Christmas, Harry made nice at dinner with the Malfoys at Malfoy Manor, then Draco tried not to pick any fights at drinks with the Weasleys at the Burrow.

As is customary with any compromise, both parties felt like were getting the short end of the stick.

\--

“Oh, Harry, so glad you could come,” Hermione Granger-Weasley greeted them at the door. “Draco.” Somehow, with those two syllables Hermione Granger-Weasley could convey a wide range of emotions that boiled down to: 

_I still really don't like you and haven't forgotten all the things you’ve done and am still not sure you’re good for Harry however given the fact that he loves you very much and you seem to make him happy for the time being I am more than willing to let bygones and be bygones and extend a warm hand in friendship however you should be very clear that the moment you break his heart I will be on you in a heartbeat and I will make that slap from our Third Year seem like a lovetap compared to the pain I will inflict, are we clear?_

It was rather impressive, actually.

“Granger, I mean, Hermione,” he greeted. He liked to pretend to forget to call her by her first name each time they met. It was his way of reminding everyone involved he was here because Harry wanted him to be, not because _he_ did.

“Did I miss the cake?” Harry asked eagerly.

“Of course not,” Hermione beamed. “We waited.”

Draco watched the undisguised happiness wash across Harry’s face and felt something warm in the pit of his stomach. Even though Harry didn’t complain about Christmas Dinner at Malfoy Manor anymore, he was always so much happier at the Weasleys’.

“I should warn you,” Hermione said as she led them to the terrace outside where everyone was talking (heated with some very strategically-targeted Warming Charms, Draco noted), “George has hidden prank mistletoe all over. Instead of the traditional kisses, there are all sorts of silly things you have to do if you want to leave.”

“Duly noted,” Harry said as all the other Weasleys saw him come in, and he moved to greet them all in turn.

Draco had to go around with him, of course, as Harry kissed Ginny Weasley on the cheek and met her new boyfriend, as Harry inexplicably found candies in his pockets for the hordes of shrieking children swarming around him (alright, the oldest Weasley’s brood was kind of cute—must be that veela blood—but the rest seemed devil-plagued and were so _loud_), as Harry smiled and nodded through Percy Weasley’s pompous pronunciations, as Harry accidentally got caught under one of the aforementioned mistletoe and had to reveal an embarrassing secret before he could escape, as Harry affectionately smacked Ron over the head for calling Draco a “scrawny, suspicious git.”

Somehow, around Christmas, it became especially clear how very different Draco's very polite, very formal, very distant family was from the chaotic, passionate Weasleys who failed to understand the concept of personal space and were always so quick to anger and so quick to subside.

“And Draco, how is your work doing?” Arthur Weasley asked, interrupting Draco's reverie in an awkward attempt to draw him into the conversation.

“My R&amp;D team has been working on, er, moving picture stories, and I’ve been working on the best way to market them to wizarding society," Draco explained (having long learned that using technical terms like “television” and “movie” would only get Arthur needlessly excited and have him babble on and on about matters he knew nothing about).

“You know, it might be something to consider, giving the Muggle inventors some credit for the inventions that they’re coming up with,” Hermione cut in with a frown, “instead of stealing their ideas and exploiting them for your own purposes.”

This was an old argument between the two of them.

“There is a long history in the wizarding world of taking useful ideas Muggles come up with and repurposing them for magical use,” Draco began.

“Just because it’s been done before doesn’t mean it’s right!”

“-and it would be bad business sense and a violation of the International Statue of Secrecy if I otherwise-” 

“As if that would stop-“

“Peace,” Harry cut in, rolling his eyes, well-used to this argument. “Why don’t we hold off on beating this dead horse just for tonight, hm?”

“Sorry, Harry,” Hermione said, reining in the speech she was about to give (one Draco could recite off the top of his head, so many times had he heard it). She looked like she wasn't quite ready to let it go completely but was going to go for a parting shot, when some other Weasley called her name and distracted her. "Ron! I told you to avoid the mistletoe!" she called out as she went to rescue her hapless husband.

Harry wrapped his arms around Draco from behind and tucked his head over Draco’s shoulder as they watched the horde of screaming and running Weasley children play with Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes sparklers. “Don’t think I didn’t catch you baiting Hermione on purpose,” he whispered in Draco’s ear when Hermione was out of earshot.

“But it’s so much fun to make her mad,” Draco said, eyes dancing.

“Play nice, Draco.”

They stood in companionable silence for a little while longer, basking in the convivial atmosphere.

“I know you love spending time with your family around Christmastime,” Harry said self-consciously, “and the Weasleys aren't really my family by blood. So if you want to switch things around next Christmas and spend the whole time with them, I und-”

“Nonsense,” Draco interrupted him. “Our compromise works perfectly. The only way I can get through this thing is with plenty of alcohol,” he said firmly. He didn't mention his soft spot for the unfettered joy on Harry’s face when he tasted Molly Weasley’s Christmas cake, or how Harry's posture relaxed as he shared drinks with Ron, or the way Harry obviously considered the Burrow home in a way Malfoy Manor would never be. Harry needed to end Christmas with those he loved more than Draco did, even if Draco would never admit it. Draco _did _mention, “Plus, you’re always more up for … _exercise_ after coming home from the Weasleys.”

Harry laughed, and whispered in his ear, “We don’t have to go home for _exercise_, if you like. I spent a lot of time here when I was younger – I know a corner where they won’t see us and we can _exercise_ all we want.”

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Draco asked, grabbing his hands. “Let’s go!”

_Fin_

Postscript: Neither of them noticed the curious Weasley children watching them leave and who would interrupt them with a surprise ambush five minutes into their rendez-vous, then spend the rest of the night asking their parents if “Uncle Harry and Uncle Draco were mad at each other, or why were they wrestling?”

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a friend who requested Harry/Draco or Harry/Severus fic for Christmas.


End file.
